


Out To Sea

by MageOfCole



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Drowning, Human Grogu | Baby Yoda, Hurt Din Djarin, M/M, Mermaid Fennec Shand, Merman Boba Fett, Pirate Din Djarin, Pirate/Mermaid AU, Protective Din Djarin, Sailor Din Djarin, Sailor/Mermaid AU, Short, Short Chapters, Storms, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: The ocean is not a merciful mistress; it’s unforgiving and violent, with a temper that could be stirred at any time. The sea has been a part of Din's life for as long as he could remember, had lived his entire life at the whims of the ocean, he and knew well that it was as dangerous as it was beautiful. Even the most knowledgeable of sailors sink if their luck gives out.Din has never considered himself a lucky person, only lucky to survive and unlucky to be the survivor.(Or: the Bobin mer AU nobody asked for)
Relationships: Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla, Past Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla, Pre Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 30
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flotsam and Jetsam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132599) by [glimmerglanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger). 



For as long as he could remember, the sea had been a part of his life. Din had been born in a tiny little fishing village; he doesn’t remember much of it, he had been too young for the memories to truly stick, but he does remember the flames as his home burned. He had been five years old when he was orphaned, his parents slain when the raiders attacked their village, five years old when he’d been rescued and taken out to sea as a cabin boy on his Buir’s ship.

Din had lived his entire life at the whims of the ocean, he knew well that it was as dangerous as it was beautiful. It could take life as easily as it could give it, and no one could truly read its moods. To believe you could was arrogance - arrogance that could get and had gotten people killed.

He’s a man grown now, and orphan twice over with a Foundling of his own to protect; he’s stepped away from his Buir’s former crew to strike out on his own. Work is slim pickings, but no one will turn away an experienced seaman and deckhand if they’re desperate enough, even one tailed by a little boy who doesn’t speak a lick of the common tongue. He’s good for paid protection, and Grogu is smart enough to stay out of the way of clients - though the slippery little shit always seems to make off with something valuable by the end of the contract.

He’s lived his entire life at sea, but that doesn’t mean his clients listen to him. He can read sea and the sky better than most, he knows the ocean better than he does people, he can see the storm coming from miles away, but the merchant he’s been hired to defend from pirates doesn’t listen. He refuses to listen. Din’s warnings are brushed off, dismissed, because the merchant draped in needless finery and wealth doesn’t want to believe that it could happen to him. Din tries trice more to tell his client to head for shore; there’s a small island and cove not too far from their current course, it would only take a week, at most, off of their travel to wait out the storm.

But his client doesn’t want to lose money. He’s ignored.

It had been in that moment, with Grogu clinging to his leg as they watch the client walk away, that Din makes up his mind. Fuck the client, fuck the job. He has a kid to look out for, and he’ll be damned if Grogu dies for this bastard.

Grimly, Din looks down at his Foundling, meets the young boy’s dark eyes, and says, “Grab our things, we’re getting out of here.”

While they may not speak the same language, Grogu understands his words, and he nods, dark curls flopping over his forehead. The young boy darts down the hall, and towards the cargo hold where they’ve been sleeping, his mission given, and excited to help in anyway he can. He’s a good kid, sweet and feisty in all the ways Din knows his Buir would have adored.

Din isn’t a praying man, but as he watches his Foundling scuttle away, he begs any deity out there to bless their passage and give them enough luck as to escape the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

The ocean is not a merciful mistress; it’s unforgiving and violent, with a temper that could be stirred at any time.

His papa had been a whaler, and had told Din tales of the cruelty of the sea and her creatures, of the overwhelming desire to follow the whims of the waves on some great adventure, but he’d also always warned him to always be wary. He’d speak of great waves that could flip ships and sink them without a care, of massive beasts that could tear boats apart, and storms that could come out of no where and take even the most experienced of seamen by surprise. His mama, a basket weaver, had told him sweeter stories when he’d go to sleep, of mythical creatures who would come to the pure of heart, of rainbow scaled mermaids who sang sweet songs of true love and turned to sea foam. His mama had been a dreamer, his papa a realist, and his Buir was neither. Din had been taught to read the wind and the waves at the same time as he was learning to walk and talk, taught how to translate the positions of the stars and the thickness of the clouds to find his baring.

He’s not so arrogant, however, as to believe that he _knows_ the ocean; he can read it better than most, but no one is truly fluent in the languages of the sea. Even the most knowledgeable of sailors end up as less than an obstacle in the path of the tides if their luck gives out.

Din has never considered himself a lucky person, only lucky to survive and unlucky to be the survivor, and eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.

Today seems to be that day for Din.

They don’t manage to outrun the storm.

The world is a dark nightmare of lashing rain and massive waves that drag his small boat further and further away from the cove that could have been their salvation. Thunder rumbles above them, the lightning is the only thing that illuminates the world around him, and Din scrambles to try to keep the boat under control as he squints through the rain. As his small ship bucks and dips in the overwhelming waves, Din can’t help but remember the story his papa had once told him, the memory foggy with age, of a massive whale that could tip ships with only a wave of its flukes.

He wonders if this is how he dies, not in battle like his Buir did, but drowned and crushed during a storm because his employer had been too arrogant to listen to him. Ka’ra, maybe he should have listened to Paz and stayed with the crew; but it had been so awkward after their fight, something had broken between them, something neither of them knew how to repair.

Would his inability to communicate with the man he had once loved get his ad killed?

He had wanted to give Grogu a chance for a better life, he had wanted to try to help the little boy find the homeland he could barely remember, the home and the people he had been stolen from for some bastard’s profits. In saving Grogu from a life of slavery, in not letting another family take in the Foundling, had he doomed him to an early death because he couldn’t give him up?

Din’s curse is lost to the storm as the ship buckles, and, desperate, he abandons the wheel, using his sword to jam the rudder and hopefully keep them on course. He needs to be with Grogu. The closer he is to his ad, the more he could do to protect him. He could make himself believe that he could keep the child safe.

He slips as he moves across the ocean-slicked wood, but his determination keeps him moving, lets him fight against the howling winds to get below deck. If nothing else, Din doesn’t want the boy to die alone. As much as he’d like the little one to live on to find his people, Din knows that it’s not likely to happen now, and the least he can do is be there to comfort him for as long as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Water, dark and frigid, crashes over his head, dragging him under. It stuns Din, for a moment, limbs locking up as he’s pulled away from the small hunk of wrecked ship that Grogu is clinging to. Their boat is gone, shattered and sinking as the storm rages around them, and that one piece of debris is the only thing protecting his ad from the depth of the sea.

The Razor Crest had served him well, over the years, and even destroyed it still does so, keeping his son afloat and away from the invading iciness of the ocean.

There’s movement, there and gone, deep below him, a faint shimmer of red light - which is an odd colour, but pretty, Din notes almost hypnotically, like rubies in the sunlight - and Din wonders if it’s just an illusion made by his oxygen-depraved mind. The movement, and realization of the burning in his lungs stirs him to start fighting again, to kick against the hold the ocean has on him.

Grogu. He has to get back to Grogu.

Din kicks, he struggles, lungs aching in his chest as he tries desperately to move towards the surface he can’t see, but the sea doesn’t want to let him go. The dark water around him tugs and twists, it holds fast, pulling at his limbs and clothes. It clings to him, dragging him down, and Din’s lungs burn, his mind growing foggy.

He needs to breathe, he needs air, but he knows that the moment his mouth opens, water will rush into his chest and he’ll drown.

Something flashes beneath him, and Din startles, jerks, when something big darts past him, barely visible in the inky, impenetrable darkness surrounding him. He can feel it shifting the water, cutting through the tides, the force of it buffering against him. He wonders what kind of creature could be swimming in this storm, wonders if he’s actually seeing something or if it’s just his mind playing tricks on him in the void of nothingness around him.

He’s sinking - or is he being pulled under? It feels like there’s hands gripping him, pulling him to and fro in the unending darkness of the ocean.

He has to get back to his son; but the world had never cared about his desires.

The sea doesn’t care about what it’s victims are, who it is that its dragging under. There’s no enemy to fight, no way to shoot his way out of this; this isn’t a human foe, and all of Din’s skills are useless. He’s going to die. His body is just going to be another claimed by the ocean. Lost forever. Just another faceless victim people will wonder about if he washes up on shore.

Din will be forgotten, his stories never told - will anyone even notice when he’s gone? Will Grogu manage to stay above the waves?

There’s a glow in the water, and for a moment, Din’s foggy mind thinks it’s seeing another person staring back at him, scarred face lit with crimson light, with eyes as deep and bottomless as the ocean itself. He imagines hands cradling his face, sharp nails digging into his skin, and Din wonders why his dying mind is showing him this vision.

He’d rather see his parents, or Grogu.

As everything around him goes gray, as his lips part against his will in a dying, desperate gasp for oxygen that will never come, the former pirate feels the phantom sensation of a weight pressing against his mouth. It feels like a kiss, tastes of salt and fish, and Din’s last thought before fading away is that he has no idea what the fuck is going on.

He fades away, mind washed away with the tide, and air is forced into his lungs.


End file.
